


of linens and cinnamon

by deepandlovelydark



Category: Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966)
Genre: Angel being a diva, Blondie not doing that, Breakfast in Bed, Canon-Typical Violence, Ficlet, Fluff, Guns, I can write fluff if I want to, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Tuco + croissants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 00:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepandlovelydark/pseuds/deepandlovelydark
Summary: the novelty of sharing Blondie's bed has long since lost a certain power, surprise rubbed smooth by familiarity. A graceful yielding enough, but nevertheless a trifle regrettablethe novelty of being caught out, however, remains zesty as ever





	of linens and cinnamon

At first he thinks the waking has him muddled, confusing a present partner with past- but no, that's Angel Eyes speaking, and may he be damned for it too. 

"Guns."

Angel's own flashes silver in the lauds sunlight. Tuco scowls, tugs aimlessly on the string looped round the jacket at his feet. "All those fancy manners, your mother never taught you to knock? Son of a-"

Blondie shoves a _marranito_ in his mouth, leans back against the headboard in deftly indifferent fashion. "No one's stopping you looking." 

"Could take a while. I've seen whorehouses left in less of a state than this room..." Angel kicks lightly at the fallen bedpost, an overturned whiskey jug, stopping when his boot hitches against a jingling set of cuffs. "You'll appreciate that I don't want to hunt through all this mess, just to find a revolver or six." 

Tuco watches, still chewing. The roll is a little stale from last night but still heavy with sugar, far from the worst fare he's had for a breakfast. "Seems to me that's more your problem than ours, eh?" 

He gives up on the knot, tosses gun and jacket and all towards their opponent. Angel just manages to avoid it with a sideways skip that'd be very funny to see on another man. Aims the gun squarely. 

"Don't do that again."

"Of course not, how many jackets do you think I have? Blondie, Blondie-" who can't help looking his name this early in the day, the way the sunrise shines in his hair. "Tell him we're busy. People listen to you when you talk, I think it's because you never say anything." 

"Ah. Now that _would_ explain what you're getting out of this partnership, that you weren't with me," Angel says, gaze flicking over their nakedness. "_A maiore ad minus._" 

"So you're the famous Angel Eyes," Blondie says, voice crisp and husky. Tuco wills himself not to flatten his partner with the pillow. "I trust this is professional interest- you're a little early for visiting hours." 

"I'll be sure to leave my card," Angel says, and that sounds like irony until the bounty hunter actually flicks something out of his breast pocket, thin and black with an elegant signature traced over the pasteboard. "In case you should be interested, later." 

It's not until it lands on Blondie's foot, grotesque red against unreasonable white, that Tuco realises that it's not meant for him.

He wipes crumbs roughly from his mustache, cover for a blithe smirk fading to low cunning- _gloria_, he thought he'd had it right this time, still a dangerous stunt enough but with somebody less likely to backstab him than the devil-charmed man before them- 

"Now tell me," Blondie says, hands laid flat against the blankets. "How I'm supposed to trust a partner who rises earlier in the morning than I do? Suppose I worked up a grievance or two, Ramirez will stay snoring long enough for me to shoot him first." 

"That's not a definition of trust I've ever come across," Angel Eyes counters- and the quick, lithesome quality about him then, the keen-eyed sureness that'd tempted Tuco the first time, has him questioning this situation all over again. Has Angel come out in search of _him _for some scam or other that needs a Mexican, and a turn of the knife in Blondie's side all that's needed- 

"To all accounts, your having a notion's the greater surprise," Blondie drawls, and that moment settles it.

Not just for having the gall to say that to Angel Eyes (of all men to tease!) which nobody in their right mind would do. Not for the words themselves, which by his reckoning are worth a bucketful of air minus the bucket. 

Not even for the coincidence of fingers brushing against his own, soft tips above heavy riding calluses- but for the sheer calmness of that action. Blondie's phlegm dampening the fast and unrevenged death staring them both down. 

"Yeah," Tuco says. "You get out of here before I come up with some more names to call you, huh? Believe me, I can think of some fine ones..."

"I expect I've heard them already," Angel retorts, already stalking his path to the door; and for this one and only time, Tuco lets him get the last word. 

Better to burrow back under these linens, and dream quietly. 

(Dream quietly, about that night that left this room in such a riotous _mess_.)


End file.
